


Hypothesis

by PinkToby



Category: Coco Chanel/Igor Stravinsky, Hannibal (TV), Hysteria (2011)
Genre: Experiments, Igortimer, M/M, Mads!Igor/Hugh!Mortimer, Shameless Smut, Vibrators, Victorian Attitudes, handjobs, hannigram AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Igortimer Hannigram AU fic, in which Igor and Mortimer experiment with Mortimer's famous invention, the vibrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haanigram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haanigram/gifts).



> Alright, part of haanigram.com's AU series involving Igor Stravinsky and Mortimer Granville (Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy characters, respectively). 
> 
> Please note that a) I do not speak Russian, so there's bound to be a few mistakes, for which I apologize and b) I am not a historian, so although I did my best to adhere to the time period, there might be a few mistakes there, also.
> 
> This is pretty much pure smut, so enjoy!

**HYPOTHESIS**

by PinkToby (mean-cannibals)

* * *

“Igor, _please_ ,” Mortimer gasped between open mouth kisses, “We…I _can’t_ -“

“Whyever not?” Igor purred into Mortimer’s ear as he untied the knot of his cravat. His fingers moved with a dexterity that could only have come from years of masterful piano-playing, and proved to be most efficient in performing tasks involving the untying of knots and the unbuttoning of buttons. Mortimer squirmed between his tighs as he half-heartedly fought against Igor’s advances.

“Because, it’s…it’s for _women_ , and their…their… _sensitive areas_. I-It wouldn’t be _proper_ …”

“Ah,” Igor smirked, “the man who let me sodomize him against a Bösendorfer last week is lecturing me about propriety. I’m certain to learn quite a lot, aren’t I?”

Mortimer’s breath hitched as Igor’s hands parted his shirt and groped at his chest, fingertips tweaking his nipples ever-so-lightly as they skirted downwards and traced the lines of his ribcage.

“That…that was _different_ ,” Mortimer hissed, “and I would never have agreed if it hadn’t been for the wine and-“

“Yes, yes, of course the wine was to blame. God forbid the positively _angelic_ Mortimer Granville, inventor of the electric vibrator and master of the pelvic massage, do anything but have perfectly _respectable_ desires and _respectful_ missionary sex…”

“With my _utterly depraved_ paramour,” Mortimer interrupted, “who wants to use a medical device designed to induce a paroxysm in hysterical females for…for…some kind of deviant sex play!”

“Or,” Igor breathed, as his lips dotted feather-light kisses along Mortimer’s shoulder, “something completely revolutionary.”

Igor’s hands were on Mortimer’s stomach now, roaming the soft swell of flesh his young lover so despised and tried to hide from the world beneath slimming waistcoats and uncomfortable posturing.

“I…I do hope you intend to explain what you mean by ‘revolutionary?’” Mortimer had finally relaxed against Igor, resting fully between a pair of slim, well-muscled thighs, “because right now, it seems like you’d do anything just to get what you want.”

“True, my motives aren’t entirely innocent,” Igor said, “but aren’t you curious as to what it would be like? As a man of science, do you not want to know every possible outcome of an experiment? You could modify your invention and sell to an entirely new demographic, conduct groundbreaking research…”

“All while being fondled by my lover?” Mortimer laughed, “It almost sounds too good to be true.”

“Perhaps,” Igor finally reached the fastening of Mortimer’s pants and unclasped the button, “but how will you know for sure unless you try?”

Mortimer was silent for a moment. Igor could practically hear his mind reeling and whirring inside his skull at a breakneck speed. It provided Igor with the perfect opportunity to grope his half-hard cock, still covered by a thin layer of fabric, and the moment the slender pianist fingers grasped the heated flesh, Mortimer was broken out of his reverie.  

“It won’t work,” Mortimer gasped out, leaning unconsciously into the touch.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for one, the idea is completely ludicrous! Honestly, Igor, you can’t expect this to actually work.”

“That’s hardly a hypothesis, dear Mortimer.”

Mortimer huffed, frustrated. Igor had a point—this could potentially lead to something big, perhaps even bigger than the original discovery he had made a handful of years ago. Since then, he’d been itching to get back in the inventing game, so to speak.

“Very well,” Mortimer mumbled, “I’ll play along. I, Doctor Mortimer Granville-“

“Prude extraordinaire,” Igor interjected playfully.

“More like ‘ _beacon of morality to the downright incorrigible Igor Stravinsky,’_ but I digress.” Mortimer cleared his throat then, in an attempt to sound at least a fraction more dignified, “I, Doctor Mortimer Granville, hypothesize that my invention will _not_ be successful when used on the male sex organ because it is a device designed expressly for women.”

“An interesting theory,” Igor countered, “even if it is disgustingly incorrect.”

“Just because you have a hand down my trousers does _not_ mean you know everything there is to know about the male anatomy.”

“And just because _you_ have used your invention to pleasure scores of women in the name of science doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about its properties.” Igor replied.

“I…you…that’s…” Mortimer stuttered, face going red as he tried desperately to come up with a way to argue further, but between the hand teasing his growing erection and the possibility of discovering an entirely _new_ purpose for his wildly successful device, he found himself unable to commit to any one thought for more than a fleeting moment.

“I do believe this is the part where you give in, _tigronok,_ ” Igor’s breath was hot on his nape, and Mortimer shivered, “Let’s turn on that brilliant machine of yours so I can prove you wrong.”

“Fine, fine,” Mortimer gasped, “but we will tell _no one_ of our findings. Swear on it.”

“I swear on my honor as a gentleman.”

“You’re hardly a gentleman, Igor, but I’ll accept your word nonetheless.”

Mortimer stood, slacks hanging onto his hips by little more than a prayer, and made his way to the generator. He gripped the handle of the vibrator and held it up, scrutinizing the device heavily, as if looking for a fault large enough to put a halt to the entire so-called _experiment_. He, of course, couldn’t find anything, and with a dejected huff, pulled the lever that made the generator and the vibrator itself hum to life.

“Here,” Mortimer mutters, all but throwing the buzzing object into Igor’s hands, “but, for God’s sake, don’t break the damn thing!”

“Imagine if I did manage to break your precious instrument,” Igor mused, standing the aforementioned object on the side table where it steadily hummed against the cherry lacquered wood, “I imagine all the women in London would be knocking at our door, demanding my head on a silver platter.”

“It wouldn’t just be Londoners, my dear,” Mortimer situated himself between Igor’s legs once more, lounging lazily against his chest, “All of Europe would riot.”

“As appealing as it sounds, I’d rather not be killed by a league of angry women just yet. I promise to be careful with your invention.”

Igor’s hands traveled down the length of Mortimer’s body, down his sternum and over his stomach, stopping to flirt with the skin just below his navel.  

“And what about me?” Mortimer inquired, hooking his thumbs beneath the waist of his slacks and pulling them down past his knees so he could kick them off, “Are you planning to be completely reckless with my well-being, or will you be careful with that too?”

“No, I will not.”

Igor cupped Mortimer’s cheek in his hand and turned his head so they were nearly face-to-face. For a moment, there was nary a sound in the room aside from the metallic whir of the generator as the two men locked eyes.

“I will be much more careful with you, _moya lyubov,”_ Igor whispered, pressing his forehead against Mortimer’s, “ _Moya zhizn_ , my life. _Moy svet_ , my light. _Moya dusha_ , my soul.”

With each endearment came a kiss to Mortimer’s lips—the last one much longer than the others, in truth—and when he pulled away, he noticed the crystalline shine to Igor’s eyes. It was easy for Mortimer to sometimes forget how Igor’s passion extended beyond piano keys and orchestra pits and into emotion, so often coated in sarcasm and playful jabs at his ego.

“I know you will be. You’re a good man.” Mortimer nuzzled his face against Igor’s neck and inhaled deeply, notes of musk and spice tickling his senses and bringing a smile to his face.

“If I am a good man, it is only because you’ve made me that way,” Igor replied, pressing a kiss to Mortimer’s curls and applying more pressure between his legs. Although Mortimer would deny everything, Igor heard the tiniest of keens come from his lover’s mouth—a lovely sound only he had the right to hear.

“A fine answer,” Mortimer murmured, “But do you know what would make you a great man, dear Igor?”

“Hm, enlighten me,” Igor sighed, continuing to tease Mortimer’s erection with idle caresses. Unconsciously, Mortimer ground his hips upwards, seeking more of the friction he so desperately craved.  

“If you stopped talking long enough put that blasted thing against my cock.”

Igor laughed, a true, bellowing thing, and even Mortimer smiled at the sound. It was good to hear Igor laugh—the normally stoic man did not express emotion often, but when he did, it was perhaps the closest thing to magic Mortimer would ever encounter.

“So now you want it, hm? If I remember correctly, you were quite set against the idea not ten minutes ago…”

“Ten minutes ago, I wasn’t in complete _agony_.” Mortimer gritted his teeth and arched up once more into Igor’s touch, “Are you going to make me beg?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Igor said, an audible smile still in his voice. He reached over and grabbed the vibrator from the side table, gripping the handle perhaps a fraction too tightly, and brought it down towards Mortimer’s spread thighs. “Are you certain that this is what you want?”

“ _Yes,_ I…” Mortimer threw his hands up (nearly missing Igor’s nose in the process) and cried, “ _For the love of God, put it on me!”_

“Such drama,” Igor clucked at his impatient lover, “but I shall indulge you nonetheless.”

And so, with a steady hand and an arm barred protectively across Mortimer’s chest, Igor made it so the device only just kissed the covered shaft of Mortimer’s cock. The reaction was instantaneous: a sharp gasp, followed by a full-body shiver, and then a light “ _oh_ ” of surprise when Igor pressed down just a fraction more. He held it there for a few moments, listening to Mortimer’s panting breaths and enjoying the way the younger man squirmed in his lap.     

“Is it unpleasant?” Igor inquired, withdrawing his hand.

“ _No_ , it’s” Mortimer choked, blush prominent on his face and neck, “it’s… _quite interesting_ … Please, give me…I want _more_.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop so you can record your findings? Since this is an _experiment_ and all…” Igor pressed the vibrator against Mortimer, only to remove it no more than five seconds later. Much to his delight, Mortimer whined in protest.

“Bugger science!” Mortimer shouted, grabbing at Igor’s wrist to keep his occupied hand from straying too far, “My God, this is…this is _incredible_!”

Mortimer, in a lust-fuelled frenzy, tugged his undershorts down his thighs to give his lover access to bare flesh. His cock, already weeping a steady amount of fluid, brushed against his lower belly. Igor experimentally touched the tip of the vibrator just below the head of Mortimer’s cock, which earned him a guttural groan of pleasure.

“ _Oh, Igor, I_ -“ Mortimer whined, “whatever you do, don’t stop! I—it feels bloody _marvelous!_ ”

The buzzing of the machine was nearly drowned out by Mortimer’s sighs and moans as Igor moved it experimentally, making sure to note which areas gave Mortimer the most pleasure. His free hand flirted with Mortimer’s nipples which peaked and pebbled at his ministrations, while his mouth sucked blood-red bruises along his neck and shoulder. Igor found himself utterly enchanted by the way his young lover reacted with reckless abandon, the propriety that so often colored his every action long-forgotten in a lustful frenzy.  

“I have a feeling this isn’t going to take very long, hm?” Igor’s unoccupied hand moved to cup Mortimer’s testicles, which earned him a lovely yelp and a particularly delightful pair of hips grinding at his ever-growing arousal.   

“ _Ah,_ I…oh, I’m almost there,” Mortimer whined, “Igor, please, I _need…_ ”

“Yes, _moya lyubov,”_ Igor soothed, “ _Vy takoy krasivyy_.Go on, _prinyat' svoye udovol'stviye_ , take your pleasure.”

“ _I-_ “

“ _Ya tebya lyublyu_ , Mortimer. I love you.”

“ _Oh, God!”_

Mortimer shuddered and shook as pleasure overcame him, a throaty whine spilling from his slack-jawed mouth as his stomach was streaked in pearlescent white. Igor placed the vibrator back on the end table in favor of holding his lover close throughout the entire ordeal, whispering sweet nothings in his mother tongue until the tremors finally died down and Mortimer stilled, sated and lazy in the afterglow of climax.

“Oh, it…it seems that I’ve made quite a mess of myself,” Mortimer stammered, eying the mess on his stomach with shame and disgust. Truly, he loved sex, but he found the mess that often followed the act to be quite irksome. With a disgruntled groan, he reached down to the floor for his carelessly discarded trousers.

“Allow me,” Igor said, producing a handkerchief from his pocket and moving to clean his lover. Mortimer gave a contented sigh.

“No, you needn’t-“

“Nonsense,” Igor chided, wiping up the last of Mortimer’s release and tossing the handkerchief to the floor, “Besides, is it not polite for the winner of a bet to comfort the loser in their bitter, agonizing defeat?”

“Given the results, one could argue that I was ultimately victorious,” Mortimer smiled smugly, “I don’t recall you having nearly as much fun as I did, dear Igor.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I quite enjoyed seeing you gasp and flop around like a fish. It was incredibly undignified…”

“You would know all about being _undignified_ —you practically invented the word!” Mortimer’s face softened, then, “But in all seriousness, I…thank you, Igor. You…I enjoyed myself very much. I only hope I can find a suitable form of reciprocation…”

“It is nothing, _moya lyubov_. Your happiness inspires my own,” Igor smiled and nuzzled into Mortimer’s neck, “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you tried out your little machine on me sometime…”

“Well,” Mortimer said with a smirk, “in order for an experiment to have valid results, one must test on multiple subjects…”

“Is that so? Then I suggest you try pleasuring me as soon as possible,” Igor pressed his hips forward, making the younger man painfully aware of his arousal, “for science, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Mortimer snickered, “for _science._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Here are a few translations:  
> Tigronok = tiger  
> moya lyubov = my love  
> Vy takoy krasivyy = you are so handsome
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Hit up haanigram.com for more AU goodness, and as always, you can find me on Tumblr at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


End file.
